What Happend That Night
by Little-Lier-on-Toast
Summary: When Harry goes to look at some forbidden books, he gets more than he bargins for!
1. Chapter 1

Harry listened closely to Ron's snores, satisfied that his redheaded friend was sound asleep. He needed secrecy and stealth for his current mission, and Ron, unfortunately, was rarely capable of either.

His mission: to take a peek at the small mountain of books in the Black Family Library that Mrs. Weasley had deemed "too dark" for anyone to read.

Harry had been going slowly stir crazy for the past few weeks. The rescue from his prison at Privet Dr. had resulted in yet another imprisonment at Grimmauld Place. He had left the house only to attend his farce of a trial, and Mrs. Weasley had kept him and the other kids busy with constant cleaning at all other times.

It was the matronly woman's insistence that he was forbidden to look at certain books, however, that truly annoyed him. Since the resurrection of Voldemort, he had become acutely aware that he was a marked man. He needed to know how to defend himself, and he would no longer tolerate mollycoddling.

If there was something in those 'dark' books which might save his life someday soon, he didn't see the harm in reading them. They were only books, after all.

So tonight he would execute his plan.

It was a simple one, really, but it required stealth. The plan was to don his invisibility cloak and sneak down to the library in the dead of night. The books set aside as improper were still in a huge pile in the corner of the room, and he thought he might be able to rescue the most useful of them.

Harry glanced outside the lone window of the bedroom he shared with Ron. It was pitch black. He wasn't sure what time it was, but he guessed that it was after 1 AM. Everyone in the house should be sound asleep.

Stepping carefully out of bed, he tiptoed to his trunk and opened it. Its hinges groaned softly, and he winced and looked in Ron's direction. Ron snored on obliviously, and he breathed a relieved sigh.

He removed his father's cloak and wrapped it around himself, disappearing instantly. Taking a deep breath and willing himself to relax, he slowly crept out of the room and down the stairs towards the bathroom, then towards the library.

Not a soul was stirring, and Harry descended slowly in the darkness so that he didn't fall.

Thankfully he didn't have to pass directly in front of Mrs. Black's portrait when he reached the ground floor. Nevertheless, he held his breath as he finally reached the library door and gently pushed down on its serpentine handle.

It was locked.

_Shit_, Harry muttered in his head, wondering if the adults had suspected just such a clandestine foray. He pulled out his wand and aimed it at the doors, whispering a quick unlocking spell.

Nothing happened.

Harry frowned in irritation and jabbed his wand at the door again. The handle seemed to budge ever so slightly, but it remained locked.

_Third time's the charm_, he thought to himself, and jabbed his wand at the door with as much power as he could muster.

There was the faintest of clicks, and he smiled to himself underneath the cloak. Knowing that this door creaked, he cast a quick silencing spell on its hinges and then gently eased it open.

He stopped the door's motion in surprise when he noticed that the room was already illuminated by weak candle light.

_What the hell?_

Deciding to at least investigate before he abandoned his plan, he maneuvered his invisible head around the cracked door and peered into the room. Only two candles were lit, casting dark shadows everywhere and imbuing the room with a faintly sinister aura.

There was enough light, however, that he could make out the back of a head of red hair.

Harry smirked and shook his head. He had not expected his unbookish best friend to be in the library in the middle of the night. The allure of unread rule braking was simply too strong for him to resist.

He was seated in an ancient red-velvet love seat, his back to him and his face staring down at a book. He had not noticed Harry's entry.

_Maybe I could convince him to help me go through the forbidden books_, he mused, and then smiled wickedly. _It wouldn't hurt to give him a little fright first, though._

He stepped into the library and closed the door silently behind him. Careful not to make any noise, he crept around the love seat until he was facing Ron, ready to whip off his cloak and give him the scare of his life. It didn't occur to him that making him scream might wake the rest of the house.

He paused for a moment to observe him.

He was sitting Indian-style in the love seat, wearing nothing but a pair of briefs and a thin blue t-shirt. His robes were lying haphazardly across the back of the seat. In his lap was a large tome, opened to a moving picture that he stared at intently.

His curiosity roused, Harry stepped closer and looked down at the book. His mouth fell open in surprise, and he nearly gave his presence away.

The picture covered two facing pages, and showed tow men, both naked, playing with each others cocks.

Ron was gay. There was no other way to explain it. Two nude bodies filled the page. Harry stared at the picture in shock, unable to believe that Ron of all people was reading such a book.

Then Ron reached down, and grabbed his crotch, which was getting hard.

Harry's eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

_Ho-ly shit_, he whispered to himself, hardly daring to believe what he was witnessing. His breath caught in his throat, and he unconsciously held it as he watched Ron gently squeeze his crotch and rub it with his hand.

He pulled off his light blue t-shirt, which was worn and thin, and unknowingly showed Harry his bare chest.

Harry was secretly gay, and was enjoying this silently. Harry's cock suddenly sprang to life, throbbing against his briefs and growing harder than it had ever been in his life.

He had always thought of Ron as very straight. He seemed to enjoy looking at the girly books that Harry had found in his attic room at the Burrow.

So he watched in disbelief as he treated him to the most erotic display he had ever personally witnessed.

He continued holding his breath as Ron gently kneaded is own crotch, his eyes still riveted to the action on the page. His breath seemed shallow, and he had never seen such a look of deep concentration on his face.

A moment later he raised his head, and then swiveled around to look at the closed doors from which he had entered. Harry's heart stopped; he was suddenly terrified that he had been discovered. He knew that he shouldn't be watching Ron like this, but neither did he want to reveal himself now. He would be irate that he had seen as much as he had.

He turned back around; apparently satisfied that he was still alone in the room. Harry watched in breathless anticipation as he pushed the book onto his knees, exposing more of the blue briefs.

He almost gasped aloud when he realized what he was about to do.

_Bloody fucking hell!_ He shouted in his mind, knowing he should look away but finding himself unable to do so.

Ron reached a hand into the front of his briefs and fumbled for a moment. Then he began moving rhythmically within them, staring continuously at the moving pictures as he worked.

Harry watched, utterly enraptured, as he touched himself. He was careful not to make a single movement or sound, worried that he would give his presence away. His cock was so hard that it felt as if an ejaculation might be imminent, but he dare not move to adjust or relieve himself.

A moment later Ron's working hand stilled, and he removed it from his underwear and sniffed his fingers. Harry almost whimpered at the sight.

She took another look round at the closed doors, then sat up and slid the briefs down his legs, placing them neatly on the seat next to him when he was finished.

He moved the thick book onto the seat and turned his head so that he could continue staring at it. Then, to Harry's astonishment and delight, he spread his legs wide, exposing his most intimate parts to him.

_Oh, I'm going to hell for this_, he thought miserably, but continued watching in wonder. There was no longer any doubt about it: his best friend was gloriously male.

His cock was topped by a light red triangle of hair that was sparse at the top, thick in the center, and grew progressively curlier as it descended to surround his penis and balls. It had been trimmed neatly on the sides.

He gripped hard onto his penis began rubbing his hand up and down his hard penis that protruded slightly from his curls. The movement made Harry cum a little in his briefs.

_Merlin, I can't take this_, he moaned to himself, his cock straining against his briefs and his abdomen tight with a feeling of desperate need that he had never experienced before.

Ron's breathing became deeper, his eyes still locked on the two men within the book. Ron began slipping his hand up and down hi penis, that was getting tenser by the minute. Ron then let go of his penis and rolled over, and startedto dry-hump the love-seat.

Then everything went pear-shaped.

Ron made a soft moan, and Harry accidentally exhaled at the erotic little sound. He was standing not three feet from him, and he heard it.

Ron rolled over, and his eyes suddenly shot upward, boring straight through the space Harry occupied.

_Oh, shit!_ He thought in panic, and unconsciously took a step backward. The slight rustling sound made by his cloak was even more audible than his exhalation.

Ron wheeled to his right and grabbed his wand from the seat, then pointed it shakily at the space in front of him, a look of stark terror on her face.

"W-who's there?" he whispered fearfully, the wand shaking in his hand as he pointed it almost directly at him.

Harry held his breath and desperately hoped that Ron didn't cast a spell at him. Maybe if he remained stock still, he would think he was just being paranoid.

Ron's eyes roved wildly around the room, his breathing heavy and panicked. His wand hand was trembling, but he nevertheless began moving it in a circular motion.

"Home—homenum rev—," he stuttered, and Harry nearly swore aloud as he began the spell. He had no choice now; Ron was going to discover him.

"Wait, Ron."

He flinched back in shock at the sound of a voice, his spell interrupted. He closed his legs sharply and stared into the space from where the voice had originated, his penis no longer erect.

Harry sighed and pulled the cloak off his body, now standing before him shamefaced.

"Harry?" he shrieked loudly, and put his free hand between his legs in an attempt to cover his penis. "What—."

"Shhhh!" he admonished and stepped closer to him "Quiet, Rom. You'll wake the whole house."

Ron squeaked as Harry approached and Ron grabbed his briefs from the love seat, sending his book sprawling to the floor. He ran hurriedly behind the seat and bent over to put them back on.

When he returned to the front, he had a look of such fury on his face that Harry was genuinely scared.

"_Harry Potter_—," he hissed, resembling nothing so much as Professor McGonagall the day Harry was introduced to Oliver Wood in his first Year.

"Wait, let me explain, Ron," Harry said hurriedly, desperate to make him understand. "I just—."

_THUMP_.

He was unable to finish his sentence. Ron had stepped forward and kicked his shin with all her might, leaving an angry red mark on his leg.

His peed his pants alittle, his eyes watering, and he focused again just in time to receive another.

_THUMP_.

Ron's second kick felt like it lit his leg on fire, and he stumbled backwards and gripped his burning leg in his hand. His eyes filled with tears from the sharpness of the blow. He held his other hand before him in an attempt to fend off the incensed wizard. He was grateful, at least, that he wasn't pointing his wand at him.

When he finally blinked and regained his focus, the expression he saw on his face nearly broke his heart. Ron's eyes were alight with fury, but his face was contorted in an ugly grimace of shame and embarrassment. His cheeks were beet red and huge tears had begun welling up in his eyes.

"Harry, how _could_ you?"

"Ron, wait, please. Let me explain."

"You were spying on me!" he choked out in disbelief, tears now falling freely down his face.

"No! I swear I wasn't…I mean—I didn't plan to. It was an accident."

"An _accident_," he spat derisively. "You _accidentally_ came downstairs in your invisibility cloak, right now, and watched while I…"

He shook his head disbelievingly, and then looked at him with such genuine hurt that real tears began welling up in Harry's eyes.

"Please, Ron! It's not what it looks like! I'm sorry, I really am. I didn't come down here to spy on you; I swear on my magic that it was an accident."

Ron's jaw clenched and unclenched several times as he stared at Harry, turning over his words in his mind.

"Why were you here then?"

"Those," Harry said in desperation, turning and pointing to the pile of discarded dark books in the corner of the room. "I wanted to read some of them. I thought…I thought there might be something in them to help me defend myself, but Mrs. Weasley wouldn't let me near them during the day. I just came down to read, I swear it."

Ron considered his words in silence.

"And yet you spied on me under your cloak."

Harry sighed and looked down in shame.

"I was going to surprise you when I saw you were here; give you a fright," he said miserably. "But then I saw what you were doing. You were reading that…that book, and…"

"And?"

"And you started touching yourself," Harry nearly whispered, "and I was, erm, surprised. I know I should have stopped, or—or left, or something. I tried, but I just couldn't….and it was too late to let you know I was there."

"But you kept watching!" he retorted, his voice thick with emotion. "You just let me humiliate myself in front of you. Why didn't you at least look away?"

"I—I tried," Harry pleaded. "I know I shouldn't have watched, but I just…I've…I've never seen anything like that, and it…it was beautiful."

He winced as the words left his mouth, fully aware of how absurd they sounded.

Ron continued glaring at him in silence, his tense breathing the only sound in the room. Harry looked at the floor in misery, his heart in his throat as he realized he might have just destroyed a friendship.

"Beautiful," Ron repeated doubtfully after a moment.

Harry met his eyes abashedly.

"Er, yeah."

When he didn't respond, he continued falteringly, hoping to somehow find the words that would redeem him.

"I'd never imagined you doing…something like that…and you were enjoying yourself so much, and I…I couldn't look away. Please don't hate me, Ron. Please."

He stared at him stoically, his face starting to return to its normal color and his eyes beginning to dry.

"You really did it on accident. You didn't come down here to spy on me."

Harry took heart from the fact that it sounded more like a statement than a question.

"Yes. No. I mean, I would never do something like that to you; I swear it. Please, Ron, you have to forgive me."

He sighed and shook his head, staring at the ground.

"You still saw me doing…that. You can't unsee it, Harry."

"Do you want to obliviate me? I'll let you; really."

Ron snorted and shook his head, but still did not meet his eyes. "Harry…that's a stupid idea. I can't obliviate for shit."

"Then I just won't tell anyone; I promise. It will be just like before. We'll forget it ever happened."

Ron exhaled a huge breath and looked beyond him to the small mountain of dark books at the root of this disaster.

"Go on and do your reading," Ron said evenly. "I'm going to bed. I want to think about this before we talk again."

He turned and picked up his robes from the love seat, then retrieved his book and shirt from the floor. Ron strode to the library doors without looking in his direction again.

"Ron."

His hand paused as it reached for the door handle.

"I…_please_," Harry whispered desperately.

He listened a moment longer, then opened the door and stepped out into the darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day was agonizing for Harry.

He had returned to bed soon after Ron, unable to concentrate on reading. Then he had stared at the ceiling, too anxious to sleep, noting the silence of the room. Ron was not sleeping either. Until unconsciousness finally claimed him near dawn.

He looked for him at lunch, but Mrs. Weasley informed him that Ron wasn't feeling well and had eaten something light in his room.

Harry's sense of dread grew by the hour. He avoided Hermione and Ginny's attempts at conversation, his mind focused only on what had transpired in the library the night before. He prepared one apology after another in his head, each one sounding more pathetic than the last. Ron was his most trusted and loyal friend, and he really didn't want to consider what his life would be like without him.

It hadn't occurred to Harry while he was watching Ron just how much of a disaster his discovery would be. The experience had been so erotic, so new to him. But of course Ron had felt violated. He had invaded his most private moment, even if accidentally.

He understood why he was angry, but honestly did not understand why he seemed to feel so ashamed. Harry was ashamed of his own behavior; heartsick with remorse, but Ron had merely done something that everyone else their age secretly enjoyed. Or at least he suspected as much.

He finally saw him at dinner. He sat across from Harry and ate casually, appearing as if nothing were bothering him. Harry tried continuously to make eye contact with him, to gain some hint as to his state of mind, but he ignored him.

When the meal was finally over, Ron passed him on his way out the door. He whispered "tonight" as he passed by his chair, and Harry closed his eyes in relief.

To his mortification, he grew aroused as he thought over that single word. He had said it so softly, so seductively; it almost sounded like an invitation to a midnight tryst.

But Harry knew what he meant. There would be a reckoning tonight. Same time, same place as before. He couldn't begin to guess what the outcome would be.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Hours later, Harry took a deep breath in the darkness as he reached for the door to the library. He couldn't prevent his hand from shaking. He felt like a man walking to the gallows.

He opened the door quietly and stepped into the room. It was lit softly by candles. He was already here.

Ron was examining a row of titles along the wall, and turned to look at him when he entered.

"Hi," he offered softly.

"Hi."

Harry pulled off his black robes self-consciously, revealing a t-shirt and pajama bottoms. He moved over to the accursed love seat and sat down on it, then looked up at Ron expectantly.

He made no move to join him.

"I'm sorry," he began plaintively. "I know you feel…violated. And I wish I could go back and…and change everything. But I can't."

Ron didn't answer. Instead he turned back toward the books and feigned interest in their titles.

"I swear on my magic that I didn't intend to spy on you, Ron. It happened just like I said; an accident."

Still he didn't respond, but Harry could see Ron's jaw working in the candlelight.

"Ron, please. I'm so sorry, but I don't know what to do. You're my best friend and I can't lose you. Not over this. Please talk to me."

He finally turned and looked at him, his eyes seemingly ablaze in the candlelight.

"You watched me," he enunciated lowly, each word tinged with hurt.

"Yes."

"You…you _humiliated_ me. _You_, Harry."

Harry sighed and dropped his head in his hands. "Yes. But I didn't mean to, Ron. And I understand why you're angry. But not why you feel humiliated. I mean, only I saw you and I don't, er, think badly of you."

He narrowed his eyes. "Right. Only now every time you see me you'll think of…of me spreading my legs. You'll be laughing at me, even if you don't show it."

Harry looked at him in confusion.

"Laughing at you? What?"

"Don't bother denying it," he responded dryly. "I can only imagine what I looked like. I don't know how I can look you in the eye ever again."

He opened his mouth to speak, and then snapped it shut. He stood from the loveseat and approached him. Ron didn't shrink away, but neither did he meet his eyes.

"Ron…I don't understand. It's not like no one else does that too."

He blushed as he heard his own words, and Ron snorted and shook his head.

"That's not the bloody point."

"Then what is?"

He looked up at him, tears welling in his eyes. "Will you please just shut up now, Harry?"

An uncomfortable silence stretched out after his words, and he stared at Ron in bewilderment. Then finally the pieces clicked in place. He narrowed his eyes.

"You think you're ugly."

He snorted and looked at him defiantly, but did not deny it.

"Merlin, Ron," he breathed. "Last night…what I saw…it was the hottest thing I've ever seen. It was beautiful. You were beautiful. It was all I could do not to, er…"

Ron raised an eyebrow, his nostrils flaring slightly.

"Not to what?" he said, and Harry was shocked at the threat concealed in his tone.

"Not to do the same thing you were doing," he said quickly, his face heating up.

Ron stared at him and then shook his head. "Right. You were laughing your arse off."

Harry looked into his eyes, unable to believe he was serious.

"What the bloody hell, Ron?" he breathed in disbelief. "I'm fucking serious. You were beautiful. Stunning. So bloody hot I couldn't stand it. How can you possibly think I would laugh?"

Ron looked at him seriously now, practically staring a hole through him. It unnerved him sometimes how well he knew him; how he was seemingly able to read his mind at all times.

"You really mean that, don't you?"

"Every word," Harry responded sincerely, giving him what he hoped was a reassuring and not a lecherous grin.

The corners of his lips twitched, and warmth entered his blue eyes for the first time since last night's catastrophe.

"You're sweet, Harry," he said, almost sadly, and walked over to the loveseat. Ron sat himself down primly, and watched as Harry followed and sat down next to him.

"And you're barmy," Harry admonished. "I'm very sorry I invaded your privacy, but you've got nothing to be ashamed of. The opposite, in fact."

Ron smiled weakly, and he pressed on.

"I'll do anything to make this right, Ron. I don't ever want to lose you as a friend. Please just tell me you forgive me. I'll strip down too, if that's what it takes, and then we'll be even."

Ron looked at him skeptically.

"You would strip down naked in front of me?"

"If that would make you forgive me, then yes," Harry stated, with more confidence than he felt.

Ron looked into his eyes again, and then sighed deeply. "Oh, Harry. I forgive you. I know you didn't mean to walk in on me."

Harry smiled and closed his eyes in relief. He felt some of the tension leave the room at Ron's words.

"Thank fucking Merlin," he breathed. "You scared me…and you pack a mean wallop," he added, rubbing his leg.

Ron flushed and cleared her throat. "Sorry…I…I suppose I went a little overboard. I was just _so_ mad at you, Harry James Potter."

He grinned affectionately at his use of his full name, and leaned back against the loveseat. He was relieved beyond measure at the outcome of this meeting, and felt suddenly giddy.

The pair sat in comfortable silence for awhile, mulling over the words they had just exchanged.

"You still owe me," Ron said eventually.

"Absolutely," he agreed. "Just name your price."

Ron stared at the floor for a few moments, contemplating his words, and then the corner of his lip twitched.

"Are you really willing to get naked in front of me?"

Harry blinked.

"Are you serious?"

He looked him full in the face, unable to resist a faint smirk.

"It's only fair, I should think."

"Ha. You're just teasing me, aren't you? This is Ron Weasley's idea of a joke."

His face flushed slightly, and he glanced down toward his groin.

"Well, er, actually…I'm a little curious to see what…what yours is like. And you said you would do it."

Harry opened and then closed his mouth, unable to form a retort. He _had_ volunteered to do just what he was proposing, but he truly hadn't expected him to call him on it.

"Really?" he asked with sudden dread, his voice coming out an octave higher than he intended.

"If you will," he answered a little breathlessly, but met his gaze openly.

"Holy Merlin. You're serious."

Ron shrugged. "You got to see me, and I am rather curious."

Harry shook his head one last time, still not quite believing his ears, and then stood slowly from the loveseat. His legs felt incredibly weak all of a sudden.

"All…all right, then. If you're sure."

Ron gaped at him for a moment, as if he had been called on a bluff. Then he slowly nodded his head.

"I'm sure."

Harry swallowed thickly and moved directly in front of her, his knees a mere two feet from hers. He pulled his t-shirt over his head, shivered, and dropped it to the floor.

"A bit cold in here."

Ron didn't answer. His eyes roved across Harry's bare chest and abs, which were much more defined than they had been a year ago.

He slowly pushed down his pajamas and let them fall to the floor, leaving him in nothing but his Briefs. Golden snitches buzzed erratically across their surface, and he looked down at them, contemplating what he was about to do. Ron too stared at the briefs, not moving a muscle. Harry could see Ron's pulse pounding in his neck from the reflected candlelight.

Harry took one last breath and then steeled himself.

"Here we go," he said softly, and slid his briefs to the floor. He desperately hoped that it wasn't too cold in the room. He was tense, not aroused in the slightest, and he didn't want Ron to think him small.

He looked down in relief, noting that there was minimal shrinkage from the intimidating circumstances.

He glanced at him, and was unsurprised by the look of intense focus on his face. He was scrutinizing his flaccid cock as if it were a new scientific discovery. He moved his head to the side to get a better view, his mouth hanging open slightly, and suddenly the eroticism of the situation crashed down on Harry.

He was naked in front of Ron, and Ron was staring at his cock.

Quite against his will, it began hardening and stretching before her eyes. He sighed and clenched his jaw in embarrassment.

"Oh my," Ron whispered, his eyes huge as he watched his cock slowly thicken and lengthen, until it pointed straight at him.

In no time at all Harry was as hard as a rock. He was unable to resist the alluring thought of a boy examining his cock so closely. And he most certainly thought of Ron as a gay now.

Ron stared at it with comically wide eyes, and Harry looked at the ceiling as he turned this way and that, as if memorizing his dimensions from multiple angles.

Finally he glanced down at him.

"Satisfied?"

"What?"

"Are you satisfied?" Harry enunciated clearly, feeling a combination of arousal and embarrassment that left him confused.

Ron looked from Harry's cock to his eyes and back, then blushed and cleared his throat nervously.

"Er, I think…I think maybe you should do…what I was doing…just to be fair."

He stared at Ron. "Are you bloody serious?"

When he nodded hesitantly, his eyes still locked on his cock, he snorted.

"Fine."

Harry gripped his cock with his right hand and looked at a point over Ron's shoulder, careful not to make eye contact. He simply couldn't believe this was happening. Then he began stroking himself slowly and dispassionately, hoping to end his humiliation as soon as possible.

He knew that Ron was watching him intently, and wondered what he might think of him after this display. After half a minute of stroking, he stopped and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Satisfied now?"

"Er, yeah," Ron blushed, and looked meekly up at him. "Thanks."

Harry nodded curtly and reached down for his briefs. He put them back on, Ron watching his every move. Then he slid his t-shirt and pajama bottoms on.

When he was finished, Ron's eyes slowly rose to meet his. They knew each other well, and their friendship had been tested many times before. Both knew from one look into the other's eyes that it had just survived this test as well.

Harry gave him an embarrassed grin.

"Am I forgiven now?"

"You were already forgiven," he replied, returning his grin. "That was just for fairness."

"Yes, well, I hope the scales of justice have been balanced."

"Oh, they have," Ron smirked, and his eyes returned to watch Harry's crotch.

He followed Ron's gaze, and then cleared his throat when he continued staring.

"Ron, I'm up here."

He looked up and blinked, then blushed furiously. "Er, right. Sorry."

Harry smiled and sat down next to him on the loveseat, finally satisfied that he had his best friend back. Things had changed somehow between them, but he felt that their closeness had emerged unscathed. They both leaned back and stared into the darkened corners of the room.

A comfortable silence followed until Harry worked up the courage to break it.

"I do have one question."

"Yes?"

"What was that book you were reading last night?"

Ron coughed lightly and reached toward a bag that was lying next to the seat. He pulled a thick tome from within and handed it to Harry.

He held it in his lap and looked at a moving picture of two men on its cover; neither was attired in so much as a fig leaf.

"_The Men of Rome_," he read aloud, and then looked at him with a cheeky grin. "Only you."

He removed the book from his lap with a huff. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Whatever you want it to." He shrugged. "It looks more interesting than _Hogwarts, A History_, at least."

He swatted him playfully on the arm, and he made a show of trying to defend himself. Ron rolled his eyes.

"So are you going to look through more of the restricted books or not?"

"Er, yeah, I suppose I should," Harry mused, and stood up from the seat. He extended a hand to him. "Will you help?"

He let him pull him to his feet. "Of course I will, you prat."

"I knew I could count on you."


End file.
